


Don't Look Back

by Burdenedwithgloriousporpoise



Series: Marlowe Fics [2]
Category: Alien: Isolation (Video Game), Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, F/M, If you like hiding in lockers this one's for you, Science Fiction, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 17:10:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9832310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burdenedwithgloriousporpoise/pseuds/Burdenedwithgloriousporpoise
Summary: Contemplation was a luxury.





	

The robot's falsely friendly voice echoed behind them. "Running causes accidents, you know."

They turned breathless into a room. Dead end. Maybe they could break for it back into the hall--he grabbed her arm and pulled them towards a locker.

"It'll find us--!" she gasped as he threw the door open and pushed her in. He stepped inside in front of her and pulled the door closed. She held her breath, hollow in the tiny dark space, tried to slow it. Her cheek was pressed against his back. It was warm. His heart beat frantically...somehow oddly soothing. She put a hand on his waist above his hip and he silently put his hand over hers.

Whirring gears and the Joe's heavy steps advanced. Another set as well. There were two. This fight would be impossible if they were found. 

The steps paused and then came closer. She swallowed and tightened her grip, closed her eyes and felt the soft thump of his heartbeat against her cheek. He squeezed her hand.

The door crashed open. "Found you!"

In one move he had lunged, struck the robot and kicked the locker door closed, shutting her inside. She gasped and crouched beneath the slits of the window, a hand over her mouth and blood pounding against her face. Sounds of blows and boots skidding on the floor, knocking into the sparse furniture.

"You're getting hysterical," said one Joe.

"I hope that firearm is registered," said the other.

A gunshot--two. 

No, no, with all this noise-- _it_ would come...

More falling blows and scuffling sounds; running footsteps receding and the stiff gait of the machines following, voices mellow despite their murderous intent. "I'm going to catch you," one said. "Please come back," asked the other.

She listened for the fading steps until they had disappeared entirely. She pulled her knees to her chest, blinked and hot tears slipped down her face. 

The silence outside was complete. She needed to time it right. The thing, the stalking black monster--the sound they were making would attract it. But...she closed her eyes. She dare not leave yet. It could be anywhere. She could run into it as it moved towards the diversion he had created. She swallowed the lump that slammed into her throat and pulled out the motion tracker. Electricity fizzled and popped as the screen faded to life. A dot was quickly moving along the perimeter of her range. Slowly she rose to a crouch, peering through the lowest of the slats on the locker front. Cold sweat trickled down her temples. Crashing. The quick scraping footsteps of that nightmare shape and her gut clenched. For an instant its spindly form--angles and talons, skeletal protrusions and a ridged scorpion-like tail--filled the doorway, and then it was gone.

After him.

She exhaled, slowly. He had given her a chance. Later she could feel the full depths of what she needed to feel; now it must be relegated to a dull inward throb, awareness of an unacknowledged grief. Where did she need to go? Communications. She had to somehow alert the fleet to their presence. After a quick consultation of the map she opened the locker door and stole into the hall, peeked to either side of the doorway and darted on silent feet towards the communications department.

Wrong. Wrong. It felt so wrong. But the last time they'd attempted to fight a Joe they'd nearly lost both their lives. Fighting more than one was unthinkable, and fighting the black nightmare was out of the question. He had made a choice, and it was in respect of him that she left now without looking back. Without risking what he had put everything on the line to save. Until the mission was carried out, she didn't have the luxury to think of what he'd just done. Or if he'd survived. Or how he'd died; if it was quick, if it was painful, if he lingered wounded for hours, alone...

She shook her head. No. Not now. Not yet. Perhaps a glimmer of hope remained. Perhaps he had escaped. He was resourceful. With all they had been through, his survival was not unthinkable. Maybe...maybe there was still a chance.

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently if I have a particular ship in mind, they bleed into whatever else I happen to be doing, like alternately screaming and hiding under a blanket while watching a bro play Alien: Isolation :3  
> There's more material associated with this idea, but I have no timeeeee~


End file.
